


Nightlife

by Regina_Wren



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aurors, Blood, Dark Fantasy, Explicit Language, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Mystery, Temporary Character Death, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-07
Updated: 2008-08-07
Packaged: 2019-10-09 11:57:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17406479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regina_Wren/pseuds/Regina_Wren
Summary: While on the trail of a killer, Auror Harry Potter finds himself crossing paths once again with Draco Malfoy, now a businessman and owner of the wizarding nightclub, Nightlife. Not everything is as it seems at first, but at Nightlife nothing stays secret for long.





	Nightlife

Draco was on the mezzanine level when Potter and Weasley walked in but noticed the dark head immediately. While Weasley had grown taller, ganglier, and even more ridiculous looking, Potter hadn't changed at all since he was seventeen. He still looked as clueless as ever and probably hadn't even stopped to check what kind of nightclub he was walking into with that blank look on his face.

But what held Draco’s attention wasn't the fact that two Aurors had just entered his club. It was the energy that Potter brought with him, an aura that drew Draco’s eyes like a magnet.

It only took Draco a split second to make his decision. Others in the club had also noticed and even as he moved he saw gazes and bodies turn towards that shining presence.

He slipped through the crowd with ease, down the stairs to the main dance floor. This time no one was going to beat him to the snitch.

 

* * * 

 

"Are you sure he said Nightlife?" Ron shouted into Harry's ear so that he could be heard above the music.

The entrance to this place was an unobtrusive doorway on the corner between Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, a doorway that Harry had passed on countless occasions, never realising that a nightclub lay just beyond. The tiny inn it attached to was squeezed just beside it. Most witches and wizards travelling from abroad stayed at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had never even heard of the Sunset Inn or its nightclub, Nightlife, until their witness mentioned the names. But apparently it was a fairly new place, only operating since the past two years.

Granite columns and arches along the walls of the club made it look vaguely gothic, especially with the grinning gargoyles waving candles that flicked with multi-coloured flames. A mezzanine level was almost lost in the gloom above and the ceiling sparkled with fake stars, impossibly high.

"I'm positive," Harry shouted back over his shoulder. Though he too had to wonder why their suspect might choose to pick up his victims at a small place like this. Picking up of a different sort looked much more common here. A man with an earring was clearly checking Harry out, and a woman in a silver dress was eyeing him almost hungrily.

Blond hair manifested between the shadowed figures beside him, and Harry stopped so abruptly that Ron walked into him.

"Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy gave them both a cool look and a nod. "Potter. Weasley."

In the ten years since the end of the war Malfoy had virtually dropped out of sight. At first there were rumours about a few wild parties but since then he had apparently become a successful, if reclusive, businessman. At least according to Ginny's gossip tree.

"What are you doing here?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at Harry’s tone. "Pleasant as ever, I see. I should ask you that question considering you're in my venue."

" _You_ own _this_ place?" Ron burst out.

Malfoy smirked and held out a hand in greeting. "Welcome to Nightlife."

Harry stared at that hand, abruptly reminded of the last time Malfoy had offered his hand, a lifetime ago. But this time there were no arrogance or insult, only welcome in his gesture. He clasped Malfoy's hand with a nod.

"We're here on Auror business," he added. "Could I speak with you?"

Something brushed against his consciousness, a breath of Dark magic. Harry's attention perked but it slipped away again, intangible. He wasn't sure what Dark spell had just been cast or on whom. When he glanced around he saw no trace of a wand, however, now that he was aware of it, the whole building around him thrummed with Dark magic. Something dangerous lay inside these walls.

For a moment a frightening smile hovered on Malfoy's face, one that looked almost like triumph, but he shrugged casually and it was gone so quickly Harry might have imagined it. "Of course."

"Ron," Harry turned, speaking as quietly as he could while still being audible. "Go have a look around and check out the place. I'll talk to Malfoy and meet you outside in half an hour."

Ron looked ready to protest and shot Malfoy a look full of deep suspicion and intense dislike.

"Yeah, all right," he grudgingly agreed, perhaps just to get away from their one-time antagonist. "Just be careful."

When Ron had vanished into the crowd, Harry turned back to face Malfoy, who was watching him quizzically. People were pushing in on all sides; the small club was crowded and sweat and body heat thickened the air, making everything even more claustrophobic. Malfoy nodded and indicated the back area where the crush seemed less.

"This way."

Harry had long ago grown used to the stares his passing generated and he only paid them enough mind to note the clientele. Beautiful women and attractive men thronged all around. Harry's eyes lingered over the dancing men he passed. A tall blond was dancing shirtless; a layer of sweat made his skin glisten, emphasising his muscled torso. A slender black man was plastered to his back, hands roving across his abs as they danced, and Harry tried not to stare. Another man collided with Harry's shoulder, paused in surprise, and winked at him before Harry moved on after Malfoy.

Skin-tight clothing, or lack of clothing, revealed the shapes of bodies all around, men and women out to enjoy the night. A woman and her boyfriend were dancing so close it looked like they were having sex with clothes on. Two women snogging by the stairs were completely lost to the world in each other's arms. It was unlike anything Harry had ever come across, yet it was comfortable. The atmosphere was relaxed and welcoming. Harry even spotted some familiar faces, though none he'd spoken with much at school. But most of the patrons seemed rather younger than him: kids straight out of Hogwarts, or wherever they'd been schooled, looking for their first serious jobs, in the wild and heady space between the end of school and the beginning of the rest of their lives. Harry remembered the time well, then wondered when he had become so old that he could look back on it already.

At the same time however the back of his neck prickled, urging caution. Ron would be fine, he was good at becoming invisible when the situation called for it, but the stares that followed Harry looked more lustful than he was used to. Half the patrons seemed to want to pounce on him all at the same time.

Malfoy led the way to a corner of the bar. 

"Let me find my senior manager and I'll be right with you," he said formally.

Harry nodded and took a seat as he watched Malfoy edge back into the crowd. In a moment the blond head was lost in shadows.

The dark haired bartender approached him with a flirtatious smile. Her eyes were too sunken to label her pretty but that smile lit up her face like magic.

"What can I do for you?"

"Um, nothing for me, thanks," Harry said. "I'm working."

She leaned over the bar and for a moment Harry got a glimpse of far more than he ever wanted to see of her cleavage.

"Are you certain?" Her voice was almost a purr. "I'm sure I could find you something-" But she cut herself off before she could finish and fell back as if burnt.

Harry stared at her shocked face.

She hissed in annoyance. "Who marked you?"

Harry blinked helplessly at her as his mind tried to catch up with that.

"What?" he asked stupidly.

"What are you doing, Emma?" Malfoy's sharp voice snapped Harry's head around. "Get back to work."

Perhaps it was a change in the lighting but when Emma's lips drew back from her teeth it almost looked like she was snarling. Then the illusion was gone and she was smiling again, pleasant as she had been before.

"Of course, Boss."

She drifted away to serve another customer and Harry had the feeling that he had just witnessed something important, but what, he couldn't even begin to guess. He pushed up his glasses and rubbed his eyes, trying to decipher what he thought he had seen.

"That one could be trouble," Malfoy frowned as he took a seat beside Harry. "So how can I help you?"

Malfoy's cool detachment recalled Harry's attention to the task at hand. He could wonder about the bartender later. Seated beside him, Malfoy looked almost willing and helpful. Probably just the get the Aurors out of his establishment, of course, by Harry wasn't going to argue.

"Ron and I are trying to track down a murder suspect. A witness saw him leaving this club with one of the victims so he may be a regular here." It was their only lead so far: no other clues, too dark for a good description of the suspect, just two bodies, and one witness.

"No name?" Malfoy asked.

His face was impassive as he stared out over the club as though surveying his kingdom. Perhaps he was. Leaning casually on the bar, the black silk of his shirt lay in stark contrast to his pale skin. Maybe he had inherited his mother's gift of looking ageless because the sharp jaw, long neck, and jutting collarbones were just as Harry remembered them, as though it hadn't been ten years since he had last seen Malfoy. Though he looked considerably healthier and a lot more attractive than he had back then.

Inwardly, Harry laughed at himself. He really needed a good shag if he was finding Draco Malfoy attractive. Or even a semi-decent shag. Any kind of shag really. How long had it been?

Harry forced his wandering thoughts back to the topic. "No. No name for the suspect," he said. "Do the names Adelaide Wriggly or David Cranbrook mean anything to you?" Both victims had been found within walking distance of this place. Adelaide Wriggly was found by Muggles. Her head was missing and her body stuffed into a bin behind a restaurant. David Cranbrook had also been headless, discovered two days later, slumped in the doorway of his second-hand wizard ware business.

Malfoy frowned, but he merely looked thoughtful rather than angry. "No. But I'm hardly familiar with every single patron and Nightlife gets some unusual clients sometimes. I can guarantee, however, that if your suspect is a regular, something will surface sooner or later. Nothing stays secret for long in this place."

Recalling the prickling of his neck, Harry wondered just what kind of unusual patrons came by here. Even if Malfoy's infatuation with the Dark Arts was long gone, this place was riddled with Dark magic. It echoed in Harry's bones, familiar as his own shadow, and just as intangible. There were no spells or objects he could pinpoint as Dark, only an ever-present sense hanging over everything. Still, it wasn't menacing, as such. It made him cautious, but not recoil.

He couldn't wait to stake out this place and discover more.

"Well, if you hear anything, let me know."

"Believe me, the sooner your lot are out of here, the happier I'll be," Malfoy drawled.

"Thanks."

Malfoy smirked.

It took Harry a moment to realise he'd just thanked Malfoy for an insult. When he laughed Malfoy looked startled.

The colourful flickering candle flames gave the club its lighting effects, similar to the Muggle clubs Harry had seen on TV. The whole floor space couldn't have been much larger than a Hogwarts classroom and Malfoy had done some fancy arranging to squeeze in the bar and dance floor. Whatever he was doing was obviously working though, because for a Thursday night the place was packed.

"This place seems quite popular," Harry remarked, indicating the crowd.

Malfoy watched him warily. "Why? Surprised I'm capable of running a successful business? Believe it or not, I do know what I'm doing. The kids love the whole dark and mysterious atmosphere."

"I can see that. It's nice, it's..." Wherever he looked, Harry saw smiling faces and people enjoying themselves. The sense of enjoyment was hard to miss. Young witches and wizards hadn't had an escape like this when he was younger. "I like it," he finished.

Malfoy raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Aren't you getting a bit old for this sort of lifestyle?" The note of disdain in his voice was so familiar Harry almost smiled. The lack of venom and vitriol spoke much louder. Sometime during the last ten years Malfoy had evidently grown up. So had Harry, in a way.

At that moment a young woman bounded over to them, her auburn curls flying out behind her. "You were asking for me, Draco?"

Malfoy didn't even blink at the use of his first name, which had to mean that they were close. "Annette Le Carpentier," he said in introduction. "My senior manager. She'll help you if I'm not around. Annette, meet Harry Potter. He's investigating a case that may involve one of our regulars."

"Oh yes!" Annette's eyes brightened with mischief. "Your old school friend!"

"I never said we were friends," Malfoy added coolly but Annette didn't seem put off in the least.

"You've also never introduced me to anyone you didn't care for," she told him. A faint French accent coloured her speech, as though she had learnt English when she was much younger or had been living in Britain for a very long time.

"You know, I can still fire you if you piss me off," Malfoy said evenly.

Annette just grinned as she turned to Harry. There was a wicked twist to her mouth, lips overly red with make-up, and her eyes held an edge of danger. Her bright red dress and pale skin only enhanced the effect of blood and ice. In a vague way she reminded him of Ginny or maybe Tonks.

"He threatens my job at least once a week," she said cheerfully. "Pleased to meet you, Mr Potter."

Harry ignored Malfoy's snort. "Nice to meet you too."

Annette was quickly back to business however. "So, Draco," she said, turning back to her boss, "you want me to tell the others to stay out of your business? That's not going to be easy with the attention you've attracted this time."

"Just spread the word. And remind them that this is still my venue and if they don't like it they can find a new one."

Harry only half listened to them, his attention distracted by memories of Ginny. She would either be horrified or laugh her head off if she knew he'd been thinking of Malfoy as attractive. They never _had_ got back together again after sixth year. First the war, then the clean up and aftermath, then Harry's growing attraction to men, to say nothing of his curse. There were too many things between them now.

"Alright, I'll pass on the message," Annette was saying. "And also, the Hampshire Potions Institute sent over those contracts so I left them on your desk. I think they're just waiting for a signature." She turned abruptly to Harry. "And you need to tell me when Draco starts trying to get you into bed. I have a pool going with the girls."

Harry glanced at Malfoy, too startled to respond properly to that. But the man was rubbing his face with his hands and not looking at him. Bones stood out on his wrists and he wore a silver ring on one thin index finger.

"Annette, why did I hire you?"

She grinned. "Because you're like my little brother and because you like playing with fire."

He glared at her. "Get back to work, you old crone. Potter, pay no attention to her, she talks a load of rubbish."

As Annette wandered away, a clear "Ha!" carried over her shoulder.

Harry regarded Malfoy with new interest. Not only could he carry on a playfully teasing but ultimately affectionate conversation, but Annette evidently thought he fancied Harry. This was certainly not what he had expected from a bitter teenage rival.

"You should get going. Weasley will be waiting outside for you."

Harry glanced at his watch, more surprised that Malfoy had overheard him than the time flying so fast.

"Yeah. I'll let you know if we find out anything else," he hesitated, feeling rather odd about such a civil conversation between them. "Thanks for the help."

Malfoy inclined his head, looking somewhere between amused and surprised. "I reckon I'll have to get used to you hanging around this place then," he said flatly but not snidely as he may have once done. "Come on. I'll tell Goyle to let you in as my guest."

It was only when Harry took a closer look at the door guard outside that he realised Gregory Goyle was standing infront of him. The big man had become almost unrecognisable, and a beard helped hide much of his face. No wonder he had glared so darkly at Ron and himself when they arrived.

Compared to the heated air of the dance club, the night air was cold and fresh. It had stopped raining and the air was washed clean of the late Spring heat, refreshing and energising. 

"Potter," Malfoy laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, calling his attention back. Malfoy stood in the doorway behind Harry so that all he had to do was lean forward to speak into Harry's ear. "Watch your back," he said in a low voice of warning. "There are men and women in there that are dying to get their hands on you and they would just love to eat you alive."

The words were breathed into his ear; Harry could hear the way Malfoy rolled them around his tongue as though tasting them. It sent a pleasant shiver skittering up his back. In that moment the voice didn't sound like Malfoy or even human at all. A promise lay in the warning and Dark magic stirred Harry's blood. His heartbeat sped up.

But when he looked around to face Malfoy, the other man was already disappearing inside again.

Harry was left feeling strangely bereft. For just a moment Malfoy had sounded downright seductive. Perhaps Annette was right.

Ron was going to be appalled.

"So what did Malfoy have to say?" Ron asked when Harry walked across the street to meet him.

His mind was still on Malfoy's voice in his ear; it took Harry a moment to realise what Ron was talking about.

"Nothing new, but he'll let us know if he hears anything."

"Can we trust him?"

Harry looked back at the entrance to Nightlife: an unassuming door sandwiched between a café and the Sunset Inn, with Goyle standing guard just to the left.

"For the case, yeah, I think so." Apart from that was another matter entirely. "I think he loves his business. He seems proud of it and sort of... content."

Ron shivered. "If you say so. It gives me the creeps though."

There was no one else on the street but just to be certain they kept their voices low.

"D'you find anything?"

"Nothing specific," Ron shook his head and grimaced. "It was right creepy though. I couldn't wait to get back out here."

Harry couldn't say he felt the same. He hadn't thought it remotely creepy. In fact, the atmosphere had been very nice, as he had told Malfoy, almost welcoming to him. That told him exactly what must have been unnerving Ron.

"It's full of Dark magic. I don't know if Malfoy knows it or not and I doubt he wants trouble with the Ministry but there's something..." His blood and bones told him only that it was there, nothing more specific.

"Our suspect was seen at a nightclub that just happens to be full of Dark magic. Big surprise there. So what do we do next?"

Harry pushed his glasses back up his nose and focused thoughtfully on the stars. "We still don't know how he's killing his victims or why he's cutting their heads off after they die. This is all we have for now."

As expected, Ron didn't look happy. "More hanging around here then?"

"I'll do it if you don't want to. This place doesn't bother me."

Ron nodded. "Thanks. I'll go through the reports again in case we missed anything," he said, giving the club a last, wary look. "I should head home. You're still coming to lunch with me and Hermione tomorrow, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

A chill wind swept up the street and shop signs nearby squeaked as they swayed. At night Diagon Alley was full of shadows, clinging to the walls and lurking in every odd corner between buildings. All the shops were closed now, of course, only Nightlife, its neighbouring inn, and a brothel down Knockturn Alley showed signs of life. Diagon Alley was a very different street during the night.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry didn't wait around once Ron Disapparated and headed home to Grimmauld Place a few seconds later.

 

* * *

 

Harry hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but when he arrived at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and saw Lucius Malfoy in deep discussion with another man, he couldn't help himself. So Harry paused by an empty desk and pretended to sort through some of the files in his arms. He was supposed to be delivering them to Hermione but he had time.

"Look, Lucius, you got your amendments. What more do you want?" The man sounded rather aggravated to Harry's ear, though he was trying to hide it. He wasn't much older than Harry, with a small triangle of hair on his chin, and a grimace as he spoke to Lucius. Harry vaguely recognised him as Roger White from the Department of Buying, Selling, and Owning Stuff.

"What about inheritance rights? Did you forget to add that paragraph to the amendment?" Lucius sounded the same as always, cool and detached and slightly bored.

"There would be too many problems. If the property holder outlives all his heirs we could be facing inheritance conflicts unlike we've ever seen in families before!"

"Come now, Mr White, you're exaggerating. The existing laws are quite clear. And you and I both know that in the case at hand there is no possibility of any further heirs unless one is legally chosen."

White finally lost his hold on his temper and hissed: "All you want is to give..." At that moment a witch carrying a baby banshee walked past Harry. The banshee was too young to be lethal yet, but not too young to make an ear-piercing racket, and the rest of the sentence was lost in high-pitched wailing.

Lucius straightened. "Your business is with me. Do not become involved in more than you can handle."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I'm merely pointing out the terms of our negotiations."

Even now, that silky voice laced with promises of violence made Harry grit his teeth. Lucius Malfoy had been cooperating peacefully with the Ministry since Voldemort's defeat, kept out of Azkaban by arguing duress for the entire family, and he had playing the-victim-of-Voldemort's-manipulations down to a fine art. He had even taken on social justice issues, pushing for more equality for part-human creatures, or beings, as it was now polite to call them. The fact that he was working with Hermione on some of her causes was disturbing and made Harry even more suspicious of the man. However, right now he needed to leave before the two of them became suspicious of him.

Harry resumed his walk down the hall. As long as Lucius wasn't trying to kill him or his friends, Harry could live with that, but he wasn't sure he could ever truly forgive those crimes of the past either.

As he approached Hermione's office, Head of the new Non- and Part-Human Rights Committee, he could hear her voice drifting out into the hallway.

"That's just it though, Ron. White and his people are trying to sway the Wizengamot with fear, portraying non- and part-humans as a threat. It's a miracle we ever got the amendments we did and probably only because we pointed out that goblins had property and business rights and under the law they're technically non-humans too."

"Or because Lucius Malfoy paid off half the Wizengamot?"

"Ron, you're not helping."

When Harry stopped in the doorway he saw Hermione at her desk, charming some interoffice memos shut, while Ron sprawled in the chair opposite his wife.

Hermione's office was small but tidy. Books crammed the entire back wall and her desk had neat stacks of parchment and folders piled around it. Over on a side table a quill was copying pages on its own, the wizarding version of a photocopier.

"What? The bastard finally bribes people for your cause and you're still not happy?"

"Nobody should be bribing anyone," Hermione said firmly. She looked up and caught Harry's eye. "Hi, Harry. Are those the werewolf prosecution files? Thanks for dropping them by." The small flock of memos took off from her table and fluttered away over Harry's head.

Hermione was already taking the stack of files from Harry's arms, resting them on the growing swell of her belly as she carried them back to her desk. The Healers said she was carrying triplet boys. It had yet to get old teasing her about Weasley fertility.

"Just let me finish this and then we can go for lunch," she said, dumping the files on her desk with a thud.

She had said she intended to work for a few more months before passing on her office to someone else so that she could be at home with her children. Apparently she was now trying to squeeze as much work into what time she had left as possible. She looked healthy and happy as she sat down again, almost glowing. Harry felt a pang as he watched her. His friends had grown up. Time was moving on. All his old schoolmates were getting married and starting families and each year left him further and further behind. Even Dennis Creevy had recently got engaged. And Percy was already getting divorced.

But Harry knew that that was not a life for him. He had never been meant to survive after Voldemort. He had always been meant to die.

When he was younger, Harry had dreamed of marrying Ginny, maybe seeing their children off to Hogwarts together, but life had its own ideas. Instead, he was working long hours as head of his Auror squad and his only companion was an aging house-elf.

"Did you know," Ron interrupted Harry's melancholy thoughts, "that place we were at last night - Nightlife - it's a favourite haunt for vampires. And we were right among them." He looked a little pale at the thought.

"Ron, I've told you," Hermione said patiently, "they aren't going to bite you without your permission. At least, the decent ones aren't. Of course, there are always exceptions like with all other groups of people..."

Ron went even paler as she spoke.

Something clicked in Harry’s mind and fell into place. "That's what it was! All the Dark creatures!"

"Beings," Hermione corrected. "And vampires are not actually Dark. They need to feed off people to survive, unlike other known Dark animals who hurt people because they don't know any better."

"It was their Blood magic." Harry nodded to show her he understood and to stop her from launching into a full-blown lecture again. "I knew the place was full of Dark magic, just not what sort."

No wonder he had felt so comfortable at Nightlife. It was like when he had first entered the wizarding world as a child. Something inside him recognised a place he belonged. Then something even more important occurred to Harry.

"They're vampires!"

Ron stared at him. "Yeah, isn't that what I just said?"

"No. Our suspect. He's killing vampires. That's why the bodies are dead before he decapitates them. That's how he makes sure they don't come back again."

The light of comprehension visibly dawned on Ron's face. "Harry! That's brilliant! I mean it's not, of course, but it does make sense."

"And I'll bet you anything he's using Nightlife to find his victims."

The two of them stared at each other, excitement palpable in the room. They were on to something, Harry could feel it.

"So all we need to do," said Ron, "is find someone with a grudge against vampires. "His face fell again as fast as it had lit up. "Only, loads of people still don't like vampires."

The laws had changed, giving vampires more legal rights, thanks to the fact that most of them had remained neutral in the war against Voldemort. The vampire expert, Eldred Worple, had pointed out that since they were largely solitary hunters, that shouldn't have shocked anyone, least of all Voldemort. With the support of influential people including Hermione and, surprisingly, Lucius Malfoy (or perhaps not so surprisingly if he was trying to construct a new reputation), vampires had been granted the rights to hold property and to legally own businesses only a few years ago, but that didn't mean prejudice against part-humans was a thing of the past.

"I'll go back tonight and have another look around," Harry decided.

Ron laughed. "I'm sure Malfoy will just love that."

A whisper drifted through Harry's head: a voice laden with seduction, cloaked in shadows. The memory sent a shiver up his spine, though it was not altogether unpleasant, and Malfoy's face came back to him, pale and angular, and clear as though the man was standing right in front of him.

"Actually, I think he might fancy me."

That made even Hermione look up from her work.

"Malfoy?" Ron burst out in shock.

"Yeah, I know."

Despite Malfoy's undecided loyalties by the end of the war and the fact that Harry had saved his life, it was hard to ever imagine his attitude towards Harry changing so drastically. Something itched at the back of Harry's consciousness, like he was forgetting something, missing a detail he should have noticed. Then again, he'd never though Malfoy attractive before either.

Hermione was giving him a piercing look. "Harry, you aren't seriously considering it, are you?"

"He's changed," Harry told her. "He's hardly a nice person but he's not the little slug we knew at school anymore. He was almost polite when I spoke to him." Less sneering, more self-possessed.

Ron looked even more disturbed now. "It's Malfoy!" he said, as though Harry had forgotten.

"I know that, Ron!" Annoyance flashed through Harry. "But I don't have to like him to find him attractive."

It wasn't until the words were out of his mouth that Harry realised that he really had been considering Malfoy as a potential shag.

Ron didn't look any better than before. The atmosphere in the room had definitely cooled and Harry attempted to squash his irritation. They were supposed to be getting ready to go to lunch together, not arguing about his possible bed companions.

"Look, whatever happens, I'm not going to let it affect the case. And it's not like I'm planning to marry the guy."

Hermione still looked troubled but also resigned. "You will be careful though, won't you? He may have changed but he's still Malfoy."

Harry rubbed at his head thinking of the Malfoy family's self-centred defiance of Voldemort. He nodded and took a breath. "I know."

 

* * *

 

The magic of Nightlife thrummed in Harry's veins as he approached the club again. The Sunset Inn was lit up in welcome, even at midnight, and Harry glanced up at the shuttered windows over his head as his blood buzzed in recognition of the familiar magic. Goyle looked bored as he let Harry pass. Evidently he was following Malfoy's orders again now, though he was probably getting paid for it these days.

As soon as Harry entered there were bodies all around him: warm, sweaty bodies, and he found himself wondering whether vampires could get hot and sweaty or whether these were all living people. He vaguely remembered something from third year Defence Against the Dark Arts about vampires being cold until they had fed but the memory came from so long ago he couldn't be sure.

Out of nowhere, Annette was by his side. "Evening, Mr Potter!" She greeted him brightly. "I suppose you're looking for Draco."

"Um..." Actually Harry was thinking he should scope out the club but he didn't get to say anything else.

"Follow me," Annette said. "And stay close. You stand out like a beacon in here. The children of the night are hungry and those with long lives learnt to walk alone a long time ago." With that cryptic message she turned to lead the way through the crowd. Not knowing what else to do, Harry followed.

It was only now he noticed how short she was and she didn't look much older than sixteen. But Malfoy had called her an old crone. That couldn't be right unless she was a lot older than she looked. Was she a vampire? Harry had to wonder how the hell Malfoy had made friends with her.

Annette led the way up the staircase to the mezzanine level. The music was dulled a bit up here - muffling charms, perhaps - and the tables and chairs were claimed by people all around.

Malfoy was seated at a table by the balustrade looking out over the club below, chin held high, pose casual, clearly in his element. Harry suppressed a grin, knowing that the arrogant boy from school would hardly have seen owning a nightclub and an inn as something to be proud of. This Malfoy, however, stood politely when Harry approached. When had Malfoy decided to employ manners with him?

"Potter."

Harry nodded his greeting. "Malfoy."

At least from this angle Harry could see most of the club. Not that it would do him any good when he didn't know what he was looking for.

"I'll leave you two alone then," Annette said, giving Harry a wink as she turned away.

Malfoy pointedly ignored her. Instead, he only indicated that Harry should sit.

Annette faded away into the crowd again.

"Have you got any further with your case?" Malfoy asked as they sat opposite each other.

Harry turned the question over in his mind for a moment before he answered. "We think the victims were vampires but we can't prove it yet. Their dead bodies were decapitated."

Malfoy nodded. "Permanent way to kill the undead."

"Yeah. We also think the killer might be using Nightlife to find his victims. It's not a secret that vampires frequent this club."

Harry stopped when he saw Malfoy's face go very cold. Malfoy sat forward, leaning on the table, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"In that case, Potter, pray you find the bastard before I do."

"I'll do what I can." Harry told him, startled by the sudden vehemence. "And stay out of this. Let the proper authorities deal with the case."

Malfoy snorted. "Proper authorities? Do you know how hard it is to find a place that's even halfway welcoming to non-humans? The law might grant vampires some rights now but it's a lot harder to change people's opinions, believe me. There's still bias in the ranks of your proper authorities," he sneered. "But I worked damn hard for this place so you'd better find your killer before the panic ruins my business and sends my customers into hiding again, because if you don't, I will."

"If you remember, I was friends with a werewolf, and I know how difficult things were for him," Harry pointed out. "I intend to treat this killer just like any murderer of witches and wizards."

Malfoy's stare didn't soften, holding Harry's gaze relentlessly, his lips thin and set. But at last he nodded. "Fine."

"Yesterday, you said you got some unusual patrons sometimes. Vampires as well as the usual crowd of young people, right?"

"What's your point?"

Harry shrugged. "Just wondering which category you belong to."

For a moment Malfoy just stared at him. Then his mouth twisted in amusement. "Can't you tell?"

From what Harry could remember none of the traditional markers applied in this particular case: Malfoy had always been pale and he ran a nightclub so it wasn't surprising he was up at night time. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were hardly going to advertise it if their only son had died and come back undead. On the other hand, something had to have changed Malfoy's attitude from proud pureblood to defending creatures of the night. It was impossible to tell for certain, but intuition whispered in Harry's head with Malfoy's voice: _vampire_.

Harry shrugged it off. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't change anything." His job was still to catch a killer. And Malfoy was still an attractive man, vampire or not.

Below, he could see the dark, writhing mass of bodies, alive and undead. He knew Malfoy was watching him but he didn't look around.

Several other curious glances were thrown his way but he ignored them too. Maybe his suspect was among them. Maybe he'd already picked his next victim. And right now there was nothing Harry could do. 

"You're doing a good thing here, Malfoy."

When Harry glanced back at his companion he saw the grey eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Are you trying to compliment me, Potter?"

Harry shrugged. "I just mean that you've created a great place. All these people mixing and getting to know other people, and in a good atmosphere... I know you and I grew up in a war but none of these kids are the least afraid of getting bitten or attacked by anyone. They can just... be young." He had never really had that chance himself, forced to grow up quickly from the age of one.

Malfoy's face darkened. "Of course not. What should they be afraid of? Any vampire or wolf who even tries to bite someone without their permission in here is dead." He hissed the word "dead" in a low voice and Harry heard the danger behind it, a bitter anger that hardened it. Harry had heard that pain often enough in his line of work and he knew exactly what it meant.

"You weren't turned willingly, were you?"

"What do you think?" Malfoy's eyes flashed. "Of course I didn't ask to have some arsehole to suck me dry. But I didn't get a choice, did I?"

Harry didn't know how to respond to that, especially since he didn't know what had happened, and Malfoy didn't look like he was going to elaborate. The pale face was closed and Malfoy looked away from him, chin lifted obstinately.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, because he didn't know what else to say.

Malfoy's jaw tightened but he kept his mouth shut.

An uncomfortable silence hung between them. Perhaps it was too much to expect that they would ever be able to talk like normal people. Harry shifted uneasily and stared out over the crowd below to distract himself.

Finally Malfoy spoke again, voice low but carrying easily to Harry's ears. "You didn't go back to finish your NEWTs, did you?"

Harry let out a breath, relieved at the change of topic. "No. The Auror department eventually accepted me based on my OWL results. It just made me glad I passed Potions by a decent margin."

"All thanks to Professor Snape's remedial Potions classes, no doubt," Malfoy said, a mixture of scorn and glee in his voice.

Harry's brain took a moment to catch up with that reference. Then he remembered the Occulmency lessons. He grinned. "Oh, those weren't remedial Potions lessons."

Malfoy's face fell. "They weren't?"

"Um, no. Snape was trying to teach me Occlumency but no one else was supposed to know what he was really trying to teach me." It was worth telling Malfoy that just to see the outraged look on his face.

But just as suddenly, Malfoy burst into laughter. " _Trying_ to?"

"Well, I wasn't very enthusiastic about it."

At least it broke the ice. Against all expectation the two of them managed to find common points of interest and somehow refrain from offending each other. It wasn't easy skating around anything political since so much of their past have been influenced by politics but their conversation finally relaxed into something almost like Harry would have with Ron or Neville. 

"Flint, the sadist, once made us train for three hours straight," Malfoy told him at one point. "He only stopped because of curfew. The Chasers had to see Madam Pomfrey because they could hardly move the next morning."

Harry laughed. All of a sudden that morning of limping Slytherins during his second year made perfect sense. "And I thought Oliver Wood was fanatical."

Malfoy smiled sardonically. "He may have been, but he had nothing on Flint for obsession and ruthlessness."

At that moment, a young Auror came up to the table looking nervous. Of course work would call just as he and Malfoy were beginning to relax around each other for the first time in their lives, Harry thought.

"What is it, Achim?"

Achim's eyes darted to Malfoy before leaning closer to Harry. "There's another body," he said quietly, a pointless exercise since Malfoy's sharp ears would catch every word but Harry didn't interrupt to tell him so. "On Yorggeting Close, outside Cordelia's Candle Kingdom."

When Harry looked up Malfoy looked even paler in the dim light, confirming Harry's suspicions.

"I have to go," he said out loud. "I’m sorry..." he only just stopped himself from blurting out how much he had been enjoying their talk.

Malfoy simply waved a hand like he was dismissing a house elf. "Go," he said.

Harry nodded and got to his feet. "I'll see you later."

And with that, he and Achim Disapparated.

 

* * *

 

The latest victim was another female. Her handbag, when questioned, gave the victim's name as Calliope Hogg. Like the other victims, her head had been sliced off and was missing. Blood had trickled between the old cobblestones of Yorggeting Close, almost across the width of the street, and the body lay in a pool of dark liquid that only showed up as shadow in the darkness. The scene investigation was already winding down. That had to mean they had found something important to call the squad leader in now.

The medical expert was still performing her spells when Harry arrived and he knelt down beside the body as he waited for her to finish. The victim was dressed in light, flowing robes that clung to her torso and a delicate silver chain encircled one wrist. Her fingernails were painted some dark shade that was impossible to identify in this light but nothing else looked significant about the body.

"Just like the other two," Ginny said finally, as she finished her spells.

"Dead before decapitation?"

She nodded. "Dark magic was used to sever the head. See these burn marks? Living tissue doesn't burn like that under a cutting curse. It was one clean cut, no signs of a struggle. She knew her attacker, at least well enough to let him get close to her." Ginny looked up to catch Harry's gaze. "Ron told me you think the victims are vampires."

"Yeah. But we're no closer to catching the killer."

Ginny got to her feet, stowing her wand away again. "Well, you're in luck. This time there were two witnesses." She nodded down the street at where Ron was talking to two young men a little way away. "They were making out in one of the doorways when the murder occurred. Anyway, I'm not sure I can get you much more information on this body but I'll have the report on your desk as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Ginny," Harry said, standing up beside her. He looked up and down the narrow street: empty, all shuttered windows and locked buildings. The new rival to Diagon Alley, Yorggeting Close twisted madly, multiplying the corners and niches in which shadows could lurk, the perfect place for anyone wanting to be undisturbed at night. Nothing else gave any indication of what had happened there earlier.

"I'll be off then," Ginny told him. "Ernie will probably be waiting up for me," she smiled, that same smile she always got when she thought of her fiancé. It had been the loss of Fred that drove Ginny to seek out every scrap of information on death. Harry thought it was morbid but it had evidently brought her peace and now she had moved on with her life, working for both St. Mungo's morgue and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement when her skills were needed. It meant she had left both Fred and Harry in the past where they belonged.

"Right." There wasn't much Harry could say to that but he was happy for her, glad to see her settled and content. "Take care, Ginny."

"You too."

He stepped back as she crouched and Apparated herself and the body back to her lab. One of the cleaning crew stepped in to vanish the blood and Harry headed over in Ron's direction, where Achim was already waiting.

Their witnesses were standing by the loading entrance to Walking and Waltzing's Wizarding Shoemakers, now locked up and dark. The taller man had his arm around his companion and they were speaking quietly to each other. Both looked a little spell-shocked, huddling close for comfort, and Harry's feelings of pity mingled with a profound sense of loneliness. As he watched, Ron finished taking notes and came towards him. He looked excited about something.

"We've got him," he said as soon as he was close enough to speak privately. "Those two gave us a clear description and Jenny's already done the likeness." So saying, Ron pulled out a sheet of parchment. "Thought you might want to see this."

The parchment showed a sketch of a man with short, black hair and a small triangle of hair on his chin. Harry recognised him immediately. 

"Roger White."

Ron nodded. "So can we arrest him now?"

"I'll get the parchments drawn up first thing in the morning," Harry told him. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was thankfully quick in processing his requests for warrants.

Harry thought back to the talk Lucius had been having with White just that morning. Now he knew that the Ministry's anti-reform spokesperson looked like he was also the wanted vampire killer. The fact that killing a few vampires had the potential to ruin the younger Malfoy's business would have been a bonus for White, no doubt.

"Can these two go or do you need anything else?" Ron indicated their two witnesses.

Their hands were entwined now, casual and yet somehow desperate, clinging to each other.

"Get a Healer to see them for shock, then send them home. Let them get some rest." At least they weren't going home alone, small comfort though it was. Cutting curses weren't Unforgivable but they could do just as much damage and cause just as much trauma. Harry remembered with a chill how unpractised he'd sliced Malfoy open in a bathroom so many years earlier. They'd both been lucky that day that Harry hadn't done any further damage.

Harry left the rest of the team to clean up and slipped away into the night. The wind was cold and the prospect of returning home to Grimmauld Place didn't appeal to him either. Only Kreacher waited for him there and right now Harry didn't want to be alone with the memories of blood and murder. He did, however, have some good news to report to Malfoy.

Decided, he Apparated back to Diagon Alley.

His old school rival was waiting just inside the door. "News?" he asked as Harry approached.

The Friday night crowd was still growing and the club was almost full. Harry glanced around at the people all around them and nodded. "Can we speak somewhere privately?"

Inexplicably, Malfoy smiled. "Come with me," he said, turning to lead the way.

Harry barely paid attention to the bodies they passed. It was unlikely that White would return here again tonight. His unfocussed gaze saw only bodies moving together in the heated darkness, the music a pulsing beat around all of them. So much life. It never got any easier seeing dead bodies but perhaps that wasn't a bad thing. If it got easier he would have to worry about his sanity. At least he knew that the rest of the people here were safe now. Limbs, skin, faceless people, carefree, connecting in the shadows.

Harry kept his eyes on Malfoy's pale head as they made their way to the side of the club. Glass doors shimmered under an archway beside the dance floor, and Malfoy pushed through them into the quiet dining hall of the Sunset Inn. A silencing charm had obviously been cast on the doors because as soon as they shut the music was cut off and the dining hall was enveloped in silence. The hall was plain and clean with polished wooden tables and benches. At the moment it lay empty and light from the nightclub next door left ghostly shadows flickering across the walls. A man behind the counter was the only other person in there.

"Evening, Mr Malfoy," he said, looking up.

"Good evening, Mr Yeoman," Malfoy replied with such debonair detachment that for a moment he sounded exactly like his father. He didn't stop though and headed towards a narrow corridor at the side of the hall. The first door clicked open to his touch and Harry just caught a glimpse of the golden plate on the door: _Private_.

As soon as he entered, Harry realised that this must be Malfoy's office. A large desk stood directly infront of him and to the side a few couches set around a fireplace for more comfortable seating. Everything was elegant, though not extravagant, warm cream and brown tones. A few landscape paintings hung on the walls and thick curtains covered the room's only window. A modest chandelier hung from the ceiling and bookcases lined the walls, interspersed only by a couple of closed doors. Despite the formal elegance, small touches personalised the room. Objects stood among the books, figurines of dragons, a golden snitch, the skull of a large bird or possibly a Hippogriff, Malfoy's Hand of Glory, a wand was displayed on the mantelpiece, and a mirror surrounded by writhing, silver snakes hung above a Maplewood cabinet.

"What happened, Potter?"

No invitation to sit, but at least they were somewhere quieter. Harry took a breath.

"We know who's been killing these vampires."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Who? I'll have Goyle bar him entrance." Those grey eyes glittered with malice and Harry guessed that "bar him entrance" likely meant something more like "smash his head into the wall a few times."

"We haven't got him in custody yet," Harry said, "but I'll let you know when we do. As you know, there was another body. Her name was Calliope Hogg."

Shock visibly registered on Malfoy's face, draining all traces of spite from his expression. Only now did Harry notice the grey tinge to his skin, the faint shadows under his eyes.

"You knew her?"

Looking shaken, Malfoy nodded. "Not well, but she's... she was a friend." He leaned against the wall at his back. He still seemed dazed.

"Was she a vampire?"

Malfoy nodded numbly.

The faces of the two men from the street flashed back into Harry's mind. Shock. Horror. Pain. Their trauma and his own insane sense of pity and yearning, so close to jealousy, when he saw their linked hands. Completely inappropriate but there it was. In a little while he would be going home alone with the memories of troubled faces and the knowledge that he would see people die over and over again, endlessly, and he would still be alone through it all.

He ran a hand through his hair. His day had been far too long. "We'll get him, Malfoy. We have three witnesses now and we'll have a warrant in the morning. He's as good as in Azkaban."

It struck him that he was trying to reassure both of them, to put their minds at ease. Then wondered what made him want to offer Malfoy some sort of comfort.

Malfoy stood from where he was slouched, slender frame and long legs straightening. He looked good in black. Why had Harry never noticed that before?

"You'll pick him up tomorrow then?"

Harry tried to ignore the stirring desire in him. "One of my squad will, yes." It was ridiculous; they were alone together, Harry was desperately lonely, and suddenly Malfoy looked like the most fuckable person on earth. Almost pathetic really.

"Hmm..." Malfoy hummed thoughtfully.

Harry wasn't even aware Malfoy had moved until he looked up to meet Malfoy's eyes and see a smile of pure delight on his face.

"You want me." It wasn't a question but a statement and the voice was full of that annoying smugness that had always made Harry want to punch Malfoy in the mouth. Only, now he couldn't decide whether he wanted to punch Malfoy's mouth or kiss it.

He settled for glaring. "Yeah, well, I've had a rough day." Which was true even if it wasn't the whole truth.

Malfoy's smile widened. "I can smell your desire from here."

Even though Harry could see Malfoy standing in front of him the words sounded as though they were whispered in his ear. That voice promised sex and seduction.

"What are you doing?" It was magic but none like Harry had ever encountered before. The telltale signs of a Dark spell skittered over his skin, raising goose bumps. 

The ability to sense Dark magic was an asset as an Auror when he had to track down a Dark witch or wizard and this was no different; it drew him, called on the traces of Darkness that remained in his body after Voldemort had killed him. But there was no danger here. There was only desire for the man in front of him, and a craving, wanting to be closer to another creature of the Dark.

Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. "Scared, Potter?"

The old challenge. Last time they'd ended up duelling.

Harry reached for his glasses and set them deliberately on a side table. Then he stepped forward to close the distance between them. He just had time to see Malfoy's eyes widen in surprise before he grabbed the front of Malfoy's robes and pushed.

Harry kissed him hard, pressing Malfoy against the wall, holding him in place. Almost as soon as their mouths met, something flashed across Harry's consciousness. A sense of magic that felt like satin on the inside of his skull, cool and feather light; it smelt of earth and skin and sweat; it tasted like salt in the back of his mouth.

Curious, Harry relaxed his pressure and felt Malfoy kiss him back. A hand reached for his face, unexpectedly gentle. He'd never thought of Draco Malfoy as even capable of being gentle. The fingers were cold but smooth on his skin, sliding into his hair.

Harry shifted his angle, making the kiss deeper and wetter. Tangling tongues with Malfoy was not something he had ever expected but in that moment it felt so right. Between them, magic and desire entwined tighter. It wasn't just Malfoy's magic, it was both of them: something deep inside Harry connected to Malfoy on a level beyond what was physical.

On a level that was purely physical, Harry felt himself respond eagerly. It had been so long since he had felt the touch of a lover and his cock was clearly paying attention to the male body pressed to his.

Malfoy's other hand gripped his hip, bringing them crotch to crotch. A part of Harry noted the incredulity of snogging his childhood antagonist but it was distant and he ignored it. Right now he was far more interested in the tongue in his mouth.

This close he could feel Malfoy's erection beside his. Good to know he wasn't the only one.

Harry relaxed his grip on Malfoy's robes and braced one hand on his chest. He could feel the heart in Malfoy's chest, its gentle beat under his palm. He remembered hearing something about vampires having a heartbeat at night-time. Sometimes.

With his other hand, Harry reached between their bodies to cup Malfoy's crotch.

They were both a little breathless when they broke the kiss. Their noses were almost touching, breath mingling between them. Harry had thought it would feel a little weird being right up against Malfoy like this but it wasn't. He only wanted Malfoy so damn much right now.

Fingers tightened around the back of his neck. "Potter, I swear if you back off now, I will kill you."

Harry smiled and stroked the bulge of Malfoy's erection. He couldn't wait to get his hands on it. "Whatever you say."

Then he leaned in to taste Malfoy's lips again.

 

* * * 

 

Ida Parkinson, second cousin to Pansy Parkinson, Head Auror, and more grim than Professor McGonagall on a bad day, looked up from her papers to meet Harry's gaze.

"White has disappeared," she said. Then continued as though Harry's stomach hadn't just knotted up at the news. "I've sent Jenny out to see if she can track him down but we don't have much to go on."

"Does he suspect we're on to him?" Harry asked.

Ida leaned back in her chair, regarding him silently. In the dim office she looked thin and graceful. Out in the field, Ida looked more like a terrifying demon. There were rumours she was a vampire but no one Harry had seen at Nightlife in the past two nights has been half as terrifying as Ida Parkinson.

Her office looked rather like the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom looked when the fake Moody had inhabited it: Sneakoscope, Nightmare Bottler, and hundreds of other objects, some of which she had developed herself. The air was heavy with the smell of books and parchment, and some of the books on the shelves behind her desk rustled and whispered to each other. Harry always expected to see a lectern with dripping candles every time he entered her office and perhaps a skull with a raven perched on top. Even Ida's black hair seemed to merge into the shadows of the office.

"He sent an owl saying that he wouldn't be in for work today," she said finally. "He claims Chequeritis but St. Mungo's hasn't seen him and his house is hidden under a Fidelius charm so we can't breach it even with the warrant. However, it's unlikely he knows we have a warrant out for his arrest. Most likely, he's just holed up somewhere disposing of those heads he took. So we need to keep this quiet until he shows his face again."

Harry dropped his gaze to the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ lying on the visitor's couch. A headline screamed: _Murder on Yorggeting Close_ , and in the side column: _Takeover Ambitions of the Undead, Skeeter exclusive_.

"So there's a chance he'll be back at the club tonight?" Harry asked.

Ida nodded. "Unlikely, but possible. That's why I want you to station your squad there, just in case he does show up."

Now Harry wished he'd told Malfoy to have Goyle on the lookout at the entrance but on second thoughts there might not be much left of Roger White once Goyle was done with him and Harry preferred to find him alive.

"Alright," he said finally. "The owner won't like it but it's probably a good idea."

"Draco will like it even less if the _Prophet_ links these murders to his venue," Ida said evenly. "Jenny and I will join you tonight. This case is now sealed against anyone not involved but we need to wrap it up quickly."

"Right. I'll let Ron and Achim know," Harry said.

Ida nodded and resumed writing where she had left off as Harry got to his feet again. "In the meantime get some sleep. I won't have you falling asleep on your feet tonight." Her voice floated after Harry as he left the office.

Ron was waiting outside and the difference in lighting made Harry blink uncomfortably for a moment at the brightness.

"So what did Morticia Adams want?" Ron asked as Harry was still trying to adjust to the light. Ron had been calling Ida that ever since Hermione had introduced him to Muggle television. Of course, he didn't dare call her that to her face.

Squinting at pictures of past graduate Aurors on the wall Harry related their task to his best friend. One of the photos before him showed Tonks with a shock of striking blue hair, waving cheerfully and knocking the glasses off the man beside her in her enthusiasm.

Ron sighed heavily. He didn't look happy at all but he didn't argue their task. "Guess White really hates vampires," he said instead. "Politician by day, serial killer at night. I'm not sure which is worse."

Malfoy's stunned face when he heard about Calliope Hogg's death came back to Harry. He'd never really known a vampire before this case but he'd never thought they were much different to other people or that they should be treated as any less than human beings.

"That's not funny, Ron," he said flatly.

"Yeah, sorry."

Harry pushed up his glasses to rub at his eyes. He'd take Ida's advice and head home soon. Keeping a night-time stake out had always wreaked havoc with his system.

"You're really attached to this case aren't you?" Ron observed, looking closely at Harry.

The word "attach" with "this case" brought back vivid memories of the previous night. After spending the night together, Malfoy had kicked him out just before dawn, but the enthusiastic farewell kiss said they weren't done with each other yet. Surprisingly, Harry was just as willing to keep going with whatever they were doing. In his mind, he could still taste Malfoy and he would swear that the scent of Malfoy's hair still clung to his cloak.

Harry had to fight a smile at the memories. Obviously not well enough, because Ron looked suspicious.

"What?"

Harry glanced down the hallway but they were still alone. "Malfoy... um, I sort of slept with him last night."

Ron's eyes bugged. "Malfoy?" He lowered his voice when he continued. "Did he try to bite you?"

"What?" It took Harry's brain a moment to catch up with what Ron was saying. Then it dawned on him that Ron was asking if Malfoy had fed off him. "No. Of course not."

"So he's not one of them?"

Harry shrugged. "He is, but honestly, it doesn't bother me." Saying that made him wonder if he wouldn't mind a vampire feeding off him. Strangely, thinking about it didn't worry him. Maybe it should have but it didn't. It was after all just the way vampires survived and the stories told that it was supposed to be a pleasant experience, so much so that most vampires fed off their living lovers. 

Ron looked conflicted. "Don't suppose I can talk any sense into you?" He looked so disturbed that Harry was touched.

"Probably not, but thanks."

Ron sighed. "So, Roger White's up against Hermione and Lucius Malfoy on the vampire reforms," he changed the topic back to business. "And picks his victims at Nightlife, probably knowing full well who owns it. Bit too coincidental, don't you think?"

Harry nodded, relieved that Ron was letting it go. "I'd say getting rid of some vampires and jeopardising a Malfoy business into the bargain would be a bonus for him."

They began walking back to their cubicles talk already back on their job for the night.

 

* * *

 

The more time Harry spent at Nightlife, the more familiar it became. The Dark magic that filled the place warmed him to the bones and made him want to smile. He hadn't felt this comfortable in any place in a long time. The club's magic felt like a soft, warm cloak around his shoulders, and Harry knew without a doubt that he belonged here amongst these Dark creatures.

Somehow the realisation didn't surprise him at all. Somehow he'd known it for a while.

He was still attracting stares but no one approached him. Standing on the mezzanine floor, hands on the balustrade he could feel the beat of the music through his fingers. Below and across the club he could see Ida and Achim leaning against the columns around the walls. He couldn't see Ron or Jenny, but they must have been around somewhere.

An arm draped around Harry's shoulder and slid around his chest. "Waiting for me?" Malfoy murmured in his ear.

Harry leaned back into the embrace but didn't take his eyes off the people below. Malfoy was familiar and solid behind him. 

"Unfortunately, I'm still working. Our suspect has avoided us so far." He felt Malfoy tense at the words.

"So he might show up here," Malfoy said flatly.

"Yes."

They were silent as the club thrummed around them. Harry sighed as Malfoy tucked his hand under Harry's arm, holding him tighter.

The crowd moved below, like sluggish waters. Nightlife was packed tight tonight, bodies thronging everywhere, noise drifting upwards.

From his vantage point Harry scanned what he could of the crowd: redheads, blonds, dark-haired, men with muscled arms and bare shoulders, and women with low cut robes. There was a man with tattoos creeping up his neck, one with glittering piercings covering his face, one man with a moustache, one with an eye-patch, one with a triangle of hair under his bottom lip. Harry's eyes fixed on the man. He was making his way slowly through the rolling mass of people, unremarkable, blending in. But Harry recognised him.

He caught Ida's eye and nodded over to the man. She nodded once in acknowledgement and started making her way towards White.

A heavy weight settled in Harry's stomach. There were too many people around, too many could be hurt if something went wrong. A slow sense of dread crept over him.

"Over by the toilet doors," Harry said quietly, knowing Malfoy would hear him.

"Roger White." The name was breathed with pure hatred.

White headed for the back of the club and Harry didn't need to look around to know the other Aurors were moving to intercept him. He could feel Malfoy's tension against his back and the horrible sense of foreboding squeezed his lungs and tied his stomach into complicated knots. Something was going to go wrong.

The thought had barely registered in his consciousness when everything went to hell.

Maybe White looked around and saw Aurors, all Harry knew was that someone screamed and a red flash unlike any of the candles filled the room. 

A wand was waving in the air and more screams followed.

There was a rush for the doors but the club was so crowded no one seemed to be getting anywhere in their panic. People were tripping down the stairs as they attempted to rush down from the mezzanine floor but the crush was so tight they were being held up by other people before they could fall.

A rush of Dark magic almost overwhelmed Harry. At the same time Malfoy disappeared in a flicker of shadows. On the floor below, curse light and shadows flickered insanely.

Harry ducked as a curse went wide and vanished into the ceiling. When Harry looked up again he spotted Malfoy by the inn doors, keeping them open as he herded people through and out of the club. At least he was doing something productive.

Below, curses were still flying and a few people had been cut down already. They were bleeding, moaning, crying, some had heads half-severed by poorly aimed curses. But it was only the living who were dying; unlike vampires, they couldn't move as shadows through the crowd when they had to, caught in the press of bodies, unable to escape.

Ida and Achim had reached each other but they were still no where near their man, fighting against the stampede, too dangerous to Apparate with bodies pressing against them on all sides.

Harry swung a leg over the balustrade before him and clutched his wand tightly.

Then he jumped.

He landed hard. The man infront of him spun, panic distorting his face and the world flashed red.

Harry's neck burnt hot, a slice of fire through his flesh.

Someone yelled in the distance.

The world spun away from him, taking White's ashen face with it, and darkness closed in to claim him.

 

 

Draco saw him fall. He felt the life go out like a fire suddenly extinguished. Without that shining beacon the club was gapingly empty, a hole full of people, all fighting for their pitifully small life forces. And that barrenness ached.

Hot rage eclipsed Draco's thoughts. Someone was going to pay. He did even realise he had slipped through the crowd again until he was tearing the wand out of someone's hand.

Roger White stared for a moment, startled, at his own empty hand before he saw Draco standing infront of him. The horror in his gaze was almost mouth-watering enough to soothe Draco's fury. Almost.

White choked pathetically when Draco grabbed his throat. The other Aurors were still struggling to get closer, though the floor had finally cleared somewhat.

Uncaring of his own force, Draco lifted White clear off his feet and threw him at Potter's colleagues.

He didn't bother waiting to see him land.

Potter lay on the floor, the cut across his throat gaping open and red. Surprisingly little blood poured from the wound but robes and floor were already covered in red.

Draco didn't need to check for a pulse to sense the loss of life and faced with that sudden emptiness he found himself bereft for what to do.

"We have to move him." Weasley had finally got through the crowd. He leaned over Potter as though trying to hide the sight from anyone watching. "Malfoy!"

Draco was still having trouble processing that the huge life-force that Potter has always emanated was gone so fast. It wasn't right. A life that powerful shouldn't go out so quickly.

"Draco?" Gentle fingers touched his shoulder. The name got his attention and he looked up to see Annette crouched beside him. "Take him to your office. I'll manage things here." She touched his hair and smoothed it back, like she had done that first night she found him by the roadside like a stray animal. Her touch was gentle and protective, like the sister he had never had. It put him back together again.

Draco nodded. He reached out to scoop Potter into his arms. The heady scent of blood was almost overpowering but it was dead blood and didn't call to him or tempt him anymore. Before anyone could see more of The Boy Who Died on the floor, he wrapped his shadow around both of them and fixed Weasley with a stare.

"My office. Be there."

Without waiting for a reply, Draco enclosed both their bodies in his Blood magic and carried Potter away through the crowd. They slipped between people, insubstantial as shadows, past the still-panicking mob, and through the door into the Sunset Inn. People were milling about the dining hall but Draco ignored them and moved quietly around the door to his own office without bothering to open it first.

When he lay Potter down again it was on carpet. The stillness of his office was at once blessed relief and oppressive silence as he gazed down at the limp body. The sight of Potter's dead body had chilled Draco once before, when the Dark Lord strode to Hogwarts, triumphant in his victory, and Draco knew his family was damned to serve him forever. Of course, that time Potter had turned out to be alive.

He was so pale, though red covered him from jaw to waist. Thick, black hair clung to his neck, clumped together, matted with blood, and Draco automatically reached to smooth out some of the sticky strands. Less than twenty-four hours ago his hands had been tangled in that same hair as they kissed. Now his fingers came away stained red.

Draco was still sitting there when Weasley finally made it to the office door. He entered without greeting and spelled it shut - rude as ever - before walking over to crouch at Potter's other side. He had retrieved Potter's wand too.

Draco immediately stood and retreated, leaning on the back of a couch and crossing his arms as he watched.

"By the way," Weasley said, looking up from Potter's body. "Thanks. We have White in custody now."

Was he really that stupid? "I didn't do it for you," Draco snapped, letting the scorn come through in his voice.

Weasley grimaced. "I know," he muttered.

If he had stopped to think Draco knew he would have stayed well out of it. He seethed. It was stupid bloody Potter's fault that he'd been too stunned to do anything but react in anger. Potter was his and White had taken that away from him. Draco had never dealt well with people taking his things.

At least Nightlife would be a safe haven once more. Once the media circus calmed down again and if the death of Harry Potter on the premises didn't put him right out of business.

Though Weasley didn't seem very upset. His best friend lay dead and he wasn't even stirred up. 

"Come on, Harry, you lazy sod," Weasley muttered. "I have to get back to work."

Then again, maybe he'd just gone completely mad instead. It was bound to happen one day. Draco was about to point that out to him when a rush of energy almost knocked him over. That amount of power was like an assault of heat and Draco reached for the back of the couch to steady himself.

"What the...?" Draco hadn't felt that kind of power since Harry Potter has first walked into Nightlife two nights ago.

He stared at Potter as the green eyes flickered open.

Weasley heaved a sigh of relief. "Finally."

The gash across Potter's throat was visibly knitting, skin pulling together on its own.

"Ron," Potter's voice came out as a harsh croak. "You try coming back from the dead sometime."

Weasley shuddered. "No thanks, mate."

Under the bloodstained skin, Draco could see only a thin curse-scar remaining on Potter's throat. That just wasn't possible. People were not dead one moment and trying to sit up the next, as he was doing right now.

"Potter, what the fuck are you?"

Two pairs of eyes turned to him. Potter swallowed and winced.

"Ron, could you give us a minute?" His voice was still rough but sounded better already.

Weasley glanced between them with a resigned look. "Fine. I need to go supervise the clean-up anyway. I'll go tell people you're with a Healer." He clapped a hand on Potter's shoulder and gave Draco a steady look before standing.

"Thanks, Ron."

Weasley nodded back at his friend. Then he strode from the room in a swirl of robes.

 

 

A tense silence filled the room after Ron left. Harry took the opportunity to breathe, grounding himself in the here and now. Every time he visited that other Kings Cross station he felt suspended, literally hanging between life and death, waiting for a train that never came. Coming back was like waking up from a vivid dream.

"Talk, Potter!"

Of course, now he had one more person to explain his situation to. It was one of the reasons he didn't let himself take many lovers but this one was a vampire, he knew about a sort of unaging, endless life. That thought reminded him of Nightlife and just how he'd died this time.

"I'm guessing the danger is over?"

Shock and demand were evident in equal measure on Malfoy's face. "Yes. Your useless colleagues have done their work. Now what the hell happened to you?"

Harry chose to ignore the barbs for now and sighed. "Honestly, I don't know. No one else seems to know either." Healers and experts were at a loss and Dumbledore's portrait held no answers for him either, only more speculation. He remembered Dumbledore once saying that he was known to be wrong on occasion and that being somewhat smarter than the average person his mistakes tended to be comparatively huger. It was only after he became an Auror that Harry understood the scale of Dumbledore's latest mistake.

He pushed the thoughts aside. No one could have known. No one had come back from the dead before him, after all. 

Harry took a breath and continued. "Did your parents tell you what happened in the forest at the Battle of Hogwarts?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Mother said she saw you die - everyone saw it - but when she got there you were breathing."

Harry nodded. That was what most people knew. "I did die. Halfway. Sort of. It was weird. I saw Dumbledore there and he told me I had a choice to come back because of the way it happened. Except, I came back wrong, because people aren't supposed to come back from the dead. Ever. So, I came back with Voldemort's killing curse still in me, all twisted and warped." He noticed absently how Malfoy still flinched at the name. "In my first year as an Auror a Dark wizard boiled my blood. A year later, one left me bleeding to death."

"You can't die," Malfoy finished for him. "Or, not for long," he added with a snort.

"Yeah, so..." he waved vaguely to explain that was why he was back. "Ever since then I can sense Dark magic around me." Of course the whole theory had sounded much more eloquent coming from Dumbledore.

Malfoy glared at him. "That's why you shine like a bloody sun. There's more life in you than everyone else put together. The first time you walked into Nightlife every vampire in the building was attracted to you." He smiled, looking suddenly wicked. "Only, I got to you first."

Something twigged in Harry's memory. "Did you mark me?"

Malfoy straightened proudly. "Of course. The moment you shook my hand you were mine. No other vampire can touch you."

That certainly explained the lack of people approaching him. Harry wasn't sure whether to feel flattered, offended, or even grateful. 

Instead of answering, he tested his neck, stretching it. He felt good as new again, his voice was back to normal, and the lingering pain in his throat had subsided. The blood covering him was all that remained.

Harry found his wand lying beside him. He stood up and cast a quick cleaning spell. His robes were immediately clean and dry, and his skin not sticky anymore.

Malfoy was still covered in bloodstains - whose, Harry didn't know- but he did't look injured. He looked exhausted and a little sick, but otherwise unhurt.

"You should clean up too."

Malfoy glanced down at himself and shrugged. "I'll be fine."

Over his shoulder Harry could see the wand on the mantelpiece and now he recognised it. He'd used that wand for a few months himself. Malfoy's wand. His thoughts raced. 

"I forgot you were dead."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "If I were dead, would I be standing here talking? I'm undead. There's a difference."

"No, I mean, a dead wizard's magic dies with them. I just realised you weren't using your wand anymore."

"I can use Blood magic if not cleaning charms," Malfoy drawled. That was probably the closest to agreement he was going to get.

"Just hold still," Harry told him.

Malfoy visibly stiffened at the wand pointing at him but he held himself rigidly still and Harry cast the spell verbally so that Malfoy could hear what he was casting. Too many years of animosity still hung over them. It wouldn't be easy overcoming that anytime soon. But time was one thing he had plenty of.

When the bloodstains vanished, Malfoy relaxed. Only the exhaustion couldn't be wiped away so easily.

"You look like hell," Harry told him. "When was the last time you fed?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Are you offering?"

"You're the one who was so determined to claim me," Harry shot back before he could stop himself.

Malfoy gazed at him thoughtfully. "Four nights. I've been a little distracted."

Memories of third year and Remus' vampire essay were coming back clearer. Vampires had to drink living blood every few nights. Blood magic. It kept them alive. The same way that incubi and succubi survived off Sex magic, the same way Dark magic was keeping Harry alive right now.

"Then feed off me." Harry decided out loud and started opening the collar of his robes.

Malfoy raised a cool eyebrow, even as his gaze eyes flickered to Harry's neck. The desire and the hunger were clear on his face but his voice was even. "Do you even know what you're offering?"

Harry shrugged. "Many witches and wizards become lovers with the vampires who feed off them, right?"

Malfoy nodded. "A vampire's bite is more intimate than a kiss. That is how new vampires are born, by drinking your Sire's blood."

"Well," said Harry, inclining his head to expose more skin. "We've already had sex. You can't get much more intimate than that."

Malfoy's gaze fixed on the uncovered skin. "True," he smiled. His canines already looked slightly longer and sharper, making Harry wonder if they were like an erection and grew when someone was interested. The question flew out of his mind though when Malfoy stepped closer to cup his face. Malfoy's hand was cold as ice and it sent a chill through Harry but he refused to move. Perhaps Malfoy noticed.

"You don't back out of anything when you're committed, do you?" Despite the cold, his hand was gentle, cradling Harry's head.

"Just get on with it."

Malfoy nodded. He leaned forward to lightly kiss Harry's neck. A chill spread from where his lips touched, a cold ripple across Harry's skin.

"Thank you." Whispered words, unfamiliar from Malfoy's mouth.

Harry closed his eyes as Malfoy's lips travelled down his throat, kisses light and tingling. But instead of the heat he was expecting, Malfoy's breath was cold. It took Harry a moment to notice that the kisses were numbing his neck, but it wasn't unpleasant, just a bit strange. He could still feel it when teeth grazed his skin but the sensation was distant and he focussed on trying to relax. Malfoy needed this and it was a small thing to share some of his blood.

Two sharp points scraped across his neck, teeth that were longer than the rest, and Harry held very still. A shiver of anticipation ran up his back. He was really going to do this. Nerves kept Harry on edge but he wasn't going to change his mind now, besides which there was something rather erotic about this whole situation: the mouth on his neck, the hand settling on his hip to hold him closer, and that impossibly careful hand on his face.

There was no pain when the teeth pierced his skin, sliding smoothly in, sinking into his flesh, only an impression of stretching skin and muscle pulling slightly as Malfoy's mouth settled against his throat.

For a moment Harry simply felt pinned there. Then warmth spread through his veins in liquid heat. Harry arched his back as pleasure skittered down his spine and felt the teeth sink in even deeper.

He'd never imagined that getting bitten would actually feel this good or that fangs in his flesh could feel quite so intimate. He grasped Malfoy's shoulder to hold himself upright. That mouth against his neck was suddenly hot against the numbed skin, shorter teeth nestled against the surface. His mind was wrapped in the lightest cotton, and he felt like he was floating, as though he’d been lifted right out of his body and into heaven. He was swimming in bliss and he noticed with some bemusement he was rock hard.

Distantly, Harry could feel Malfoy drinking from him but it didn't seem to matter anymore, only the feeling of floating in absolute bliss mattered. Was Malfoy massaging his crotch or was he imagining that? Harry pressed into the touch, clinging tighter to Malfoy's back.

He closed his eyes. His whole body was wrapped in pleasure and he wasn't sure how he was staying on his feet any longer; his back was arched, and his fingers dug into Malfoy's shoulder blade, afraid that if he let go he would get swept away completely.

"Fuck."

His abdominals tightened and with a cry he came.

As quickly as that, it was all over.

The intensity of that orgasm left him gasping, and by the time he realised the teeth had withdrawn, Malfoy was lapping at his neck over the area they had been.

"Don't move," he murmured. "Wait for the blood to clot."

"I wasn't really planning on moving," Harry said. His mind was still reeling and he was quite content to remain there a little longer. He tried to remember whether a vampire could provide a coagulant or whether Malfoy was just cleaning him up. He still couldn't feel much of the side of his neck.

"You taste good," Malfoy murmured against his neck. "Rich."

"All that not being able to die issue, probably. More life in my blood than anyone else's."

Malfoy hummed in agreement and slipped an arm around Harry's waist to hold him closer.

"That was... pretty intense." Harry couldn't think of any better description right now, trying to collect his scattered mind.

"You alright?"

Harry wondered if anyone would believe him if he said that Malfoy was gentle and attentive to his lovers. He wasn't sure he would have believed it himself if he hadn't experienced it.

"I..." He took a deep breath. "I'm fine. Just a little sticky."

Malfoy snickered.

 

* * *

 

Beyond the window, Harry could see the stars, barely visible in the London sky, tiny glittering lights in the darkness. It wasn't a real window, of course. Vampires were too sensitive to sunlight for the Sunset Inn to have many real windows but the magic on the wall was convincing. It generated just enough light to spare the room from complete darkness so Harry could still make out Malfoy's shadowy figure climbing out of bed.

"You do realise people are going to start noticing that you don't age sooner or later?" a lazy voice sounded through the darkness.

Harry settled back against the pillows to watch as Malfoy expertly navigated the dim room in search of his clothing.

"Yeah, I know." He'd spent the past few years trying not to think about that. The _Prophet_ would never leave him alone. Ever. Though Hermione and Dumbledore both agreed that one day he would come across something that would kill him for good and he knew from his Auror training that every curse had its counter-curse somewhere.

Over beside the cupboard, Malfoy was pulling on his trousers. "Typical. The person I get stuck with for the rest of eternity would be you."

Harry rolled his eyes, too peaceful and relaxed to let Malfoy's attitude to get to him. "You are not stuck with me. You can always..." He didn't get to finish before Malfoy was beside him, leaning over his side of the bed.

"Oh yes I am," he hissed. "Because you're not going anywhere." With that he kissed Harry hard.

Harry found himself pushed back into the pillows as he was snogged with furious passion. After he'd fed, Malfoy's body became as warm as any living human being's, and now his skin was flushed with health, warm to the touch, and Harry took the opportunity to run his hands over the smooth, naked back and shoulders. When Malfoy broke the kiss Harry pulled him right back down again, melding their mouths closer together. He didn't let go again until he felt Malfoy's grin and the breath of murmured words against his mouth.

"I know you can stay in bed at night but I do actually have to get some work done tonight."

Harry reluctantly let go of his lover. Not that they loved each other - Harry wasn't even sure they liked each other very much - but the term seemed suitable. Maybe they could learn to be friends though. They were certainly on the way there.

They were working out surprisingly well together. Malfoy always looked like he'd indulged in a three-course meal after he fed off Harry and for the first time in ten years Harry didn't need to worry about someone falling for him only to be left behind. As far as the loneliness of immortality went, Harry had found his counter-curse in a similarly unaging lover.

Malfoy stood up again to resume the hunt for his clothing.

Harry sighed and settled back in bed. He still wasn't sure how he would explain his situation to others when even the experts couldn't explain it to him. The Weasleys were the only ones who knew so far.

"Your parents know you died, right?"

"Of course." Malfoy said in a tone that suggested that not telling his parents something was akin to sacrilegious. Maybe to him it was. Lucius and Narcissa were probably decent parents, even if they were generally rotten human beings. 

"Naturally, Mother was upset. And Father was livid." There was a sound of rustling fabric as he spoke and Harry could see the outline of Malfoy getting dressed in the dark. "After the war I was a little lost. Everything I believed in turned out all wrong, Crabbe was dead, you defeated the Dark Lord and saved my life; it was humiliating. I went a little crazy, along with Goyle, Zabini, Pansy, Yaxley's girls, a whole group of us trying to drown out the new world."

"Yes, I heard the rumours," Harry added quietly. The children of the Death Eaters and their sympathisers, all those wild parties...

"I'm not surprised," Malfoy's voice sounded amused. "Anyway, at one party I met this man, Daniel, and let him talk me into bed. Seems that keeping bad company inevitably comes back to bite you because this one did. He nearly sucked me dry before he offered me a drink of his blood and I was too gone to realise what was happening. I found out later that he prided himself on how many people he'd succeeded in turning. Annette found me two days later and helped me adjust."

The bed sagged where Malfoy sat to continue dressing and Harry prompted him to continue. "What did your father do?"

He could hear the smirk on Malfoy's face. "Yeah, because I'm really going to tell the Auror about my father's revenge. All you need to know is that that particular vampire isn't a threat anymore."

Harry frowned. He hadn't come across any other vampire murders before this last case so chances were this Daniel was still alive. Or else Lucius had done a thourough job disposing of the body. Still, he wasn't going to get into this now so he let it go. "And now your father's working with Hermione."

"Well, she is Head of the Non- and Part-Human Rights Committee. When I was turned, vampires were seen as no better than werewolves or centaurs. Annette taught me to survive, moving around the country to avoid persecution. Eventually I got sick of hiding in barns and attics when the sun came up so I decided to open an inn to give travelling vampires a safe place to go, to be open at night when we're active and block out the sun during the daytime. That more than anything helped me. It gave me something to work for and believe in again."

This place was Malfoy's home, Harry realised with a start. Not anything inherited, like his name or his blood status had been, but something he had built for himself. He’d been right in his first impression of Malfoy.

"You're proud of this place," Harry said quietly.

The pride in Malfoy's voice was unmistakable now. "Well, of course I am."

And Lucius was working to change the laws so that his son could live the life he'd built for himself. Harry felt a bit daft for not realising that Lucius was only working with Hermione because it would help his son. Disappointing, but hardly surprising.

"I have to go," Malfoy said, leaning over to kiss Harry one more time. "See you in the morning."

"Yeah. See you."

In a whisper of shadows Malfoy was gone.

Perhaps it should have been odd how easily Harry had fallen into this strange life with Malfoy but it felt right. Two weeks since Roger White's arrest and business at Nightlife was settling back into routine and every time Harry dropped by he felt welcome. Its magic accepted him as kin and Malfoy's Dark attraction never paled for him either. Strange as it may have been, Harry felt comfortable here.

He curled deeper into the blankets of Malfoy's bed.

Above him the stars twinkled in the night sky, old as legend. The life of a star passed so slowly it may as well be eternal itself. Thinking of Malfoy's night sky on the club's ceiling, Harry drifted into sleep.


End file.
